Unravel
by The.Velvet.Dusk
Summary: "The harmful thread of doubt and dejection yanked itself free, dangling perilously in the dimmest corner of her diminishing soul—I wish it had been me." Season 4, sometime after episode 9 (Into The Deep). Jenna's dip in the lake stirs some dark musings in the mind of Spencer Hastings. Will the circle be unbroken? Or can someone step in and break the cycle? {3 Parter}
1. Chapter 1

_**Don't tell the GG fans, but I took a break from my multi-chap fic (Relentless Sparks) and put all my pent-up Spoby angst into print. I'm a little peeved with season 4's ability to gloss over season 3's issues and my fave duo has yet to impress me. This is a bit outside of my typical writing style and I hope it doesn't feel too choppy. It will be a three parter, but it isn't very long. **_

_**Listen to **_**Shake It Out ****_by Florence + The Machine, _****The Chain****_ by Ingrid Michaelson, and _****Clarity****_ by Zedd if you want to hear some of my inspiration on this one. You know the drill-I own nothing._**

* * *

It wasn't until days later. Emily had made an offhand comment referring to that unbearably panicked moment when she had falsely assumed Spencer's body had been floating lifelessly in the lake instead of Jenna's. The harmful thread of doubt and dejection yanked itself free, dangling perilously in the dimmest corner of her diminishing soul—_I wish it had been me._

She froze. That wasn't true. It couldn't be.

So she stuffed it down, stampeded all over it, blared indie music and surrounded herself with as many people as possible. All she needed to do was drown out that malfunctioning voice in her head.

_Drown._

Poor word choice.

…

A full array of glossy brochures was arranged in a curving display across her desk. World-class academics, phenomenal student-professor ratios, decorated athletic programs; each pamphlet engaging in a worthless screaming match for bragging rights. This was clearly the work of her mother.

She buried them under bulky textbooks and unused stationary. She purposefully left piles of junk mail and old magazines scattered across the garish spectacle. But late at night, after hours of studying and investigating and studying some more, she felt their spiteful presence from across the room. It didn't matter how tightly she pulled the comforter over her head, the very idea of them was brutally burnt into her conscious and unconscious thoughts.

They disappeared the next day. Her mother was too preoccupied with the Ashley Marin saga to notice.

…

Mona was in Radley. Mona was in Radley, sleeping in her old bed, sitting at that worn desk, eating a cup of pudding. But it had been hers first, right?

_Will the circle be unbroken?_

Spencer felt a zapping chill feathering down her spine. Toby's loft was always so cold. Everywhere was cold. She couldn't escape it.

Jenna could have died that night. Melissa spoke in veiled riddles and murky threats, then fled to Europe. Hanna's mom could get life in prison if the judge dismissed Mona's confession. Emily was bunking in Ali's old room, her own house still in shambles. Welcome to life in Rosewood.

Toby was moving somewhere in the clouded distance, throwing out a of litany run-on sentences that just dizzied her. When had the room gotten so big? It was like miles stretching into eternity. But that was their story lately—a glacial expanse of space. They weren't fighting…

Yet.

_Will the circle be unbroken?_

…

"I just want to be alone."

How many times can a person utter the same dull sentence in one day?

The old plan—the one where she was going to _drown_ out that bad little voice—was useless. That unrelenting damaged thread got snagged, torn, and grew uncontrollably. Who was she to stop it? She didn't have that kind of strength anymore. It had taken too much, had required everything, to claw her way out last time. How could she scrape together another ounce of raw willpower?

A miniscule crack had cryptically materialized in the glass face of her watch.

She was alone even when she wasn't alone.

…

They were huddled together in some ridiculously obvious attempt at secrecy. How undignified. She had stumbled upon a bash-on-Spencer party and they hadn't spotted her yet. She waited patiently for her grande drip coffee, contemplating an anonymous retreat and feigned amnesia.

But then Toby happened to glance over Aria's head and catch sight of her from across the room. Sometimes it really sucked to be that short. His baby blues widened dramatically and her cynical hypothesis was easily verified; the inner circle had gathered together in some conniving tête-à-tête. The Brew was really their venue of choice? Public displays of betrayal were so tacky.

A chorus of inadequate pleas swirled around her as four sets of suddenly unfamiliar eyes begged for her to understand.

_Friends share secrets. That's what keeps us close._

Until the secret isn't yours to share anymore.

…

Phone—off.

Door—locked.

Even her email went unchecked.

The world had gone very, very quiet. She was finally alone.

And then it went black.

* * *

_**I have the other two parts written already, so drop me a line in that little box below and we'll see about posting more ;)**_


	2. Chapter 2

The perpetual wave of in and out, in and out…

It was enough to make her nauseous.

A far-off drone occupied her obscure purgatory. Hushed conversation wove through her disconnected sense of lucidity. An enduring pressure weighted her hand down. She dreamt of sapphire crystal and shadowy trees. Floating images of long corridors and lonesome ghosts distorted her vision. Black. Red. More black.

And a whispered cry. "Please come home to me, Spencer."

Maybe it was Alison. Maybe she was on her way to wherever Alison was. Probably hell. After all, that's where they both belonged.

But even in this blurred state, she knew that voice did not belong to Alison.

…

White walls. White sheets. White lights.

White gown.

_Will the circle be unbroken?_

No, not—

"Spencer! You're awake."

The pressure on her hand, the sapphire eyes.

"Where am I?"

His brows knit together in something resembling despair. "In the hospital, Spence. You don't remember anything from last night?"

She tried to shake her head but it was too heavy. "No."

A nagging frown marred his handsome face. "Someone attacked you…you were home alone, and someone came in and hurt you. Do you remember that?"

"No." Her voice was so pathetically raspy. She hated it, hated this place.

"Okay…can I get you anything? Something to drink…or are you hungry? Maybe I should call the nurse—"

"I just want to sleep. I'm so tired." It was true; her eyelids seemed to balance hundreds of pounds each.

"Sure." It was barely a mumble. A small, sad syllable. He absently brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face.

"Toby?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes were already closed but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice without having to see it in the uneven strokes of his tortured expression. "Are they sending me to Radley?"

"_What_? **No**. Why would they do that?"

She hadn't cried in a long time, not since the day he came back to her. The day she became whole again, the day she found restorative promise. She thought everything had changed that day, that it would all go back to the way things had once been. How tragically naïve.

So the unwelcomed surge of saltwater behind her abundant lashes caught her off guard. "Because maybe I belong there."

She fell asleep to the melody of Toby's soft cries.

…

"Have you ever thought about dying?"

She had been awake for at least an hour, but they had barely exchanged more than a few words. He was noticeably at a loss for what to say or do. So when that imaginary thread of a doubt began to snake its way across her tongue, she fully expected him to freak out on her—yell, cry, call the suicide hotline—but he seemed unfazed. He turned his somber eyes toward hers in what felt like slow motion.

"Yes. Of course I have."

So apparently this was on the approved list of conversation. "And?"

Toby sighed deeply, exhaustion painted in the creases around his mouth and in the dips of his forehead. "Well when my mom died…especially with the way she left us…I couldn't help but think about it a lot."

"Right. Sorry."

"It's okay." Some unresolved emotion flickered in his gaze. "And if I'm being honest, it ran through my mind a lot when I…while I worked with Mona, and when you found out. I spent a lot of time off the grid, Spence, and I kept thinking…everyone would be better off if _I just wasn't here_. If you hadn't found me when you did…I don't know."

There it was. A lifeline. She wasn't the only one who got wedged in the darkness. He seemed lost in his own reverie now, but Spencer felt a spark of elusive hope at his confession.

_Hope breeds eternal misery._

No, that voice, that stupid impetuous thread was trying to bind her. She sensed its resilient grasp on her wrist.

"Spencer."

Wait, that grasp on her wrist was warm and familiar. Toby was still here. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

She hated how often he said that. "I know."

"No, you don't. I'm sorry for what happened the other day at the Brew, for not telling you myself that I was worried about you. But more than that…I'm sorry that I haven't been listening to you lately, _really_ listening to you."

She lifted her frail shoulders noncommittally.

"I'm here now, okay? I love you so much. I don't think I've told you that enough lately." His voice was so steady, so insistent.

"I'm fine."

Her mumbled reply did little to alleviate that rumpling line between his eyes. "That's not true. Come on, Spence, we're sitting in a hospital and you're asking me about dying."

"What am I supposed to say?"

He looked pained. Maybe he should be the one in the white gown. "I want you to say everything that's been buzzing around in that head of yours."

A forgotten fire blazed in the pit of her stomach. "Everything? What version of everything? Do you want to talk about the fact that I'm not going to college, or how the burden of lying to my friends for weeks has been killing me, or maybe how we _never _talk anymore?"

She saw the muscles jumping in his jaw as he released her arm and sat back in his chair. "I told them."

"What?"

He swallowed heavily. "I told them, Spencer. Last night, they were all here and I told them the truth about A and my mom. I'm pretty sure Hanna would have slapped me if Caleb hadn't been holding her back."

"Maybe she should have." Where those twisted words sprang from, she wasn't sure.

But he was too patient, too forgiving. "I wouldn't have blamed her."

An elongated stillness enveloped the cold room. It was always so cold.

"Spencer, you are going to college. UPenn made a huge mistake, but a thousand other schools will want you."

"And when am I supposed to apply to thousands of other schools? Between hunting down Dr. Palmer, CeCe Drake, Wilden's killer, and Red Coat? Sorry, I'm a little booked."

"I'm sorry, I know I have—"

"You already said that."

"**Listen**." She shrank back and another apology seemed to hover on his lips, but he stifled it. "I've really screwed this up, Spencer. This is how it happened before and I should have known better than to let it spiral like this again. It just...it felt different this time because I was being honest with you, but that doesn't justify the fact that I have dumped my mess into your lap. That wasn't fair. I know that you're tired of the words 'I'm sorry' and truthfully, so am I. If you want me to walk away from this…I will."

Every particle of air was sucked from the room as his watery eyes zeroed in on her threadbare soul.

_Pretending not to love you was the hardest thing I've ever done_.

_What we had was real_.

"Don't go." It was a squeak, but it was enough.

"Okay." His voice was unequivocally rough, something akin to the sandpaper he so often carried with him.

* * *

_**a/n**_

_**two down, one to go.**_

_**more reviews = faster update.**_

_**Spoby forever.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Posting in honor of PLL Day. Last part. Tell me what you like.**_

_**I own nothing PLL related. I wish I owned Toby. Don't we all?**_

* * *

Sleep claimed her in intervals, dragging her under the eddying current without warning. He was always there when she came back to the surface.

A whispered affirmation was streaming over her head as she blinked against the fluorescent glare. The words didn't make sense but the love shining through him was the clearest shade of affection she had ever known.

"Hey." Her voice was always croaking in a flimsy manner.

"Hi, sleepyhead."

"How are you here?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Hospitals usually have these things called visiting hours."

He smiled. Spencer wondered when she had last seen that expression on his furrowed face. "Your mom kind of went on a tirade at the nurses' station…she said I'm family and I am allowed be here whenever I like, or she'd sue."

Her mouth fell open. "She did?!"

His happiness momentarily withered. "I think...I think she feels guilty that she can't stay with you as much as she should…and for not being home when this happened."

A graceless snort escaped her. "That's rich."

He bypassed that one. "Spence, I couldn't sleep last night…I've been thinking about our relationship …"

"Okay." Her throat went dry.

He sighed. She was beginning to hate that sound even more than she hated his apologies.

"When things first started up between us, I have to admit that I was infuriated with your parents. They had this gorgeous, brilliant, fearless daughter and they let her sit alone in this castle of a house while they went off and did whatever they did. I despised them for overlooking you and I vowed that I would show you how wrong they were. Not that I wanted to undermine their role in your life or take you away from them, but…I thought I could make up for what they weren't giving you."

She didn't bother with the tracks of moisture running down her hollowed cheeks. The dam had fractured.

"I know that working with Mona was a monumental error in judgment, but you have to believe me when I say that my heart never left yours. Even if I made all the worst choices, it all came from a place that was desperately unswerving in my devotion to you, to us."

An arid cough passed through him, but he shook it off. "I sat up all night thinking how far I've strayed from that vow. I got so lost in myself that I completely neglected you; I treated you like my grief counselor and my colleague, but not my girlfriend. I haven't protected you, haven't—"

She couldn't bear any more. "You're allowed to have issues too. You had a life before you met me, Toby, I don't expect you to let all the other pieces drop the second I get melodramatic. You don't have to be some stoic rock."

His head tilted suspiciously. "That is the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm the one who puts on the stoic rock façade? Look in the mirror, honey."

Point taken. "But I'm okay."

"Were you okay when you went to Radley?"

It was amazing how causally he could launch that stinging barb. "Why would you ask that?"

"Answer the question."

"No. I wasn't okay. Happy now?"

His face darkened. "Not at all. So is this different? Does this qualify as okay in comparison to that?"

"Have you been talking to Dr. Sullivan?"

"**Spencer**."

She sniffled as thoughts of the thread and the lake and masks all hurtled through her head.

_I decided I didn't want to be victim anymore._

He had been dead. It was **his** tattoo, **his** leather jacket, **his** bike helmet.

But now he was right in front of her.

"Maybe…I'm not okay. But…"

Both of his hands gripped one of hers. "Come on, Spence, I'm listening this time."

Her breath came in feeble spurts. "I don't know, Toby. When I went there…I didn't want to be Spencer Hastings. It wasn't good, being her."

"And now?" His anxiety was alarmingly palpable.

Her eyes drifted shut. "It hasn't been much fun lately."

…

There were too many of them looking at her, all of them expecting some bright blip of enthusiasm. They'd have to keep waiting, because brightness was hardly her forte at the moment.

"Where's my watch? I know I had it on when I came in."

Her mother shifted from one foot to another while her dad glanced accusingly at the doctor.

"Are you sure you had it on, sweetie? You said you don't remember…"

"I wear it every day! It has thin leather straps and—"

Toby blustered into the room, succinctly cutting her off. "Is everything okay, Spence?"

"No, they returned my personal effects and my watch is missing!" Tears gathered beneath her lids. Why it mattered so much, she couldn't say. An irrational turbulence consumed her. How could she be coerced back into the cruel light of reality without it?

"Hey, it's okay, don't cry. I have it right here." The watch inexplicably appeared from the folds of his coat. He knelt before her, fastening it onto her wrist immediately. He remained on his knees as he stroked her chin with the pad of his thumb. She watched attentively as he silently mouthed the words, "Are you alright?"

Spencer nodded slightly. It was all she could muster.

Toby stood back up, facing the perplexed appearances of the others in the room. "A nurse showed it to me the night Spencer was admitted. The glass was completely shattered on the face, but I knew how much she loved it…so I looked into getting it repaired. It's no big deal."

A strange twitching sensation tingled around her mouth. Her heart drummed at an increased pace. This was what it felt like to smile, to genuinely smile.

He sat close to her in the waiting room as her parents signed the discharge papers. They didn't talk much, but the quietness felt contented this time. He gingerly cupped her elbow as they transferred her from the wheelchair to the car. She turned to him and tentatively murmured—"thank you."

But by the way her toffee eyes flicked appreciatively across his face, he knew that those two words covered a multitude of unspoken sentiments.

…

"What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

He kissed her on the cheek and smiled. "Yes, everything is okay. I came to pick you up."

She crossed her arms warily. "How do you know I didn't drive?"

"You were released from the hospital yesterday, Spencer. With a concussion, remember?"

The pesky thread of doubt whipped in the bitter wind. "I know. That doesn't mean you have to come get me. Aria gave me a ride this morning, and I'm fine to walk home."

"But now you don't have to. Come on." He wrapped a sturdy arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the tan truck. Some combatant gush of adoration fought for dominance.

_I love you so much._

_I wanted to say that first._

The thread shriveled. She did love him.

Toby unlocked her door and helped her in while teasing her about going to school when she had a doctor's excuse for the rest of the week. And the thing was, he knew she would go back right away without asking—he was here, waiting for her, grinning like a fool.

Because he knew her that well.

…

Both of her parents were stuck in Philly.

Emily? College visit. Aria? With Jake.

And Hanna? Well Hanna had more than enough going on without her trivial intrusions.

Plus he would probably be livid if she called anyone other than him.

He was there so fast that she couldn't help but assume that he had already been on his way. "General Tso's or teriyaki? I'll take whatever you don't want."

She hadn't eaten all day. She figured he had guessed that. "Let's share. Both sound good."

"I like that answer." He left a chaste kiss on her unsuspecting lips then wandered past her on a mission for plates. The whole exchange had been only a moment, and he went on as if it had all been second nature.

And it occurred to her that not so long ago, it was. Maybe it still could be.

…

She jolted awake, her entire body trembling. A pulsating flash of suppressed images erupted like fireworks in the night sky. The creaking on the steps, the flicker of black separating itself from the shadows, her startled yelp and a deluge of sharp pain…all jagged memories of the night she had been attacked. Her lungs ached and her eyes seared. It felt so real.

Then her vision focused in on the motionless figure sprawled across her red chair. She almost screamed at the sight, but her addled brain finally cleared.

_My safe place to land_.

It wasn't even a question. She was out of her bed and at his side instantaneously. "Toby, wake up." Her hand settled on his shoulder. "Please, Toby…"

"Mmm. Spence?" His hand rose to trap hers in place.

"I had a dream or déjà vu or something. About that night."

"When someone hurt you?" The fog in his voice was gradually lifting.

"Uh huh." Another quiver passed through her. He tugged on her arm lightly, and she gratefully fell into his lap. It was the closest they had been in…well, she didn't know how long.

He smoothed back her tangled hair. "You're safe, sweetheart."

It was like he was reading her mind. _My safe place to land._

He kissed her temple. "Did you happen to see a face?"

She shook her head.

"Well did it look like...do you think it was—"

"A? Yeah, it was your standard issue black sweatshirt. That's all I got."

He hummed pensively, the vibrations playing in a beautiful symphony against her skin. She missed him, missed this, missed that distinct scent of leather and aftershave and sawdust.

"I think I was afraid to admit it—even to myself—that I needed you."

Toby repositioned his head so he could see her better. "Want to elaborate on that thought?"

"I think you're fully aware of the fact that I don't like the idea of needing anything or anyone. But it's worse now…after the way I lost myself when you were gone…I've never felt so unchecked before you know?"

"I know."

The grit in his tone reminded her that she has not been the only one suffering then. "Things have been…slipping away again, but I wanted to control it this time."

She felt his exhale against her forehead. "But Spencer, I'm here this time. I should have been before and I wasn't, but I am now."

"What was I supposed to tell you?" Her voice broke as if she were a wave against shrill rocks on a vindictive shoreline. "It's not like something disastrous was happening to me."

"Did you feel alone?"

"Yes."

His arms tightened around her. "That's disastrous enough for me."

A pervasive realization sifted through her. A glance downward confirmed that her watch was in one solid piece right where it belonged. For the first time in months, that adamant coldness had subsided. Toby's warmth had seeped beneath the frosty outer layer and spread through her from head to toe. And that thread, that damned harmful thread, had been snipped. He was all she heard, all she saw, all she felt.

_My safe place to land_.

She didn't want to drown. She wanted to live.

"I love you, Toby."

…

When he carried her back to bed this time, he slid between the sheets with her and kissed each one of her closed eyelids. She was his clarity, his sanity, his cure.

"I love you, Spencer. More than I can ever tell you."

Her sleeping form burrowed deeper into his chest. She made him whole.

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he had the power to make her whole too.

* * *

_**now let's cross our fingers that these two get it together on TV. Pretty pretty please?**_


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